


Maybe You Can Own Me

by yukulele



Category: Magi (Manga), Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Complete, M/M, WIP, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukulele/pseuds/yukulele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sindrian court is visiting the Kou Empire on a diplomatic meeting, but that’s a good as reason as any for espionage (in Sinbad’s opinion anyway). And who better than the former assassin in his employ? A very loyal one, at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes places about five years before the series begins.

“You’re surprisingly good at this.”

“Just part of my colorful unbringing,” Ja’far replied smoothly, dusting the translucent powder across the bridge of his nose to set the make up concealing his conspicuous freckles. Next he lined his eyes with scarlet for contrast, then slipped a hood neatly over his hair and fastened a veil over the bottom half of his face.

Where a serious faced young government official was, now stood a slim, mysterious stranger in deep blue silks, accented with gold. It was to be his disguise for his secondary mission, being utilized for his non bureaucratic skillset.

“Remember, I’m a former assassin, not a spy.”

“But you’ll succeed, won’t you?”

“Of course, your highness.” He answered, smiling at his sovereign, looking underdressed as always even for such an important meeting- although technically it was just a banquet held in their honor by their royal hosts. They had come to the Kou Empire on their invitation, as a newly formed nation and political player. Ja’far had tried to insist he stay behind to look after the day to day matters, but Sinbad ordered he come along.

Sinbad’s true objective was revealed only once they were on the ship and it was too late to try and swim back. He was an inconsiderate man like that, but Ja’far had come to accept that part of him over the years. What was the point of calling it devotion if it didn’t involve a few unpleasantries.

“They have a growing lineup of dungeon conquerors with unknown potential. I have it on good faith there’s a log of that somewhere.”

“Somewhere?”

“In the study of the first prince, Ren Kouen.”

“I don’t think he’d appreciate a stranger going through his belongings.”

“That’s why he won’t even be there. He’s on a hunt with his court, he won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“But I still have to dress up like this.”

“You wouldn’t be a very good spy if everyone recognized you, now would they?”

Part of him suspected Sinbad simply enjoyed the thrill of the game, that it would give him no uncertain pleasure to steal such a morsel of information from their hosts, however gracious they were. So he complied, taking his place not at the side of the King of Sindria, but among the servers in their various colors, decked to exhibit their grace and modesty- but he knew it was more of a measure to make sure they all came back with them in a few days.

Ja’far was about to slip out to the kitchens under the guise of fetching more wine, when the doors of the banquet hall were thrown open and a cheering party of soldiers barged in, haphazardly calling out honoraries and titles.

“The first prince of the Kou Empire, light of our land, arrives triumphant!”

The look he shot Sin from across the hall was sharper than the knives he had hidden on his person and colder still. The fresh faced prince, who looked like he’d more or less walked in after jumping off his horse, was being welcomed and lauded for his success at the hunting grounds, and in turn, introduced to their southern guests.

Regardless, the show must go on. He had no doubt that Sinbad could keep the prince distracted as long as necessary, even if it meant going one for one with him on a bottle of their vile rice liquor. He slipped out of the hall with an empty tray, taking a shortcut through the servants passageways to the suite of rooms that housed the royal family. The first prince had nearly an entire wing reserved for himself, and he had no problem finding the office with its tasteful décor yet completely offputting world map, covered in tiny pins of won battles and defeated peoples.

“Not the first man of appetite I’ve met,” he muttered, scanning through the shelves for the private family registry. He tried to stay as collected as he could, even as the hours dragged on and his candle ran low. There were just so many damn books. At the very least they were labeled clearly, but no order he could perceive. Perhaps the prince liked to catalogue things himself.

Finally, wedged between a cookbook specializing in seafood and an almanac, he found it. But as his luck would have it someone opened the door at the same exact moment.

“And what do we have here?”

I am going to kill Sin, Ja’far seethed privately behind his mask of feigned surprise, as if he were lost and embarrassed. But he realized it was probably for naught when the prince himself walked in, looking none too pleased. He had to play this right if he wanted to get out of it alive, and at the same time keep Sin from becoming complicit.

“Looks like a little kingfisher has flown in. I came back to refresh and change into something more appropriate, but it seems the Sindrians don’t mind a little impropriety.”

“I apologize for my rudeness, your grace.”

“Not at all, he mentioned some sort of gift, but I didn’t expect something so high quality. Come closer.”

Ja’far could see an out in the Prince’s misinterpretation, intentional or not, but it wasn’t a path he preferred. But he had no choice but the close the gap between them, keeping his gaze on the ground even as the Kou prince assessed him with an approving nod.

“You’re not from Sindria, are you?”

“I serve his highness, King Sinbad.”

“So you’re a slave?”

“Formerly. I am under his employ.”

“Good, honest work, huh?” the prince grinned, and Ja’far felt his chest tighten at how similar the two were, in that fleeting moment. No wonder they were both so successful, but there was definitely something harsher in this one. There was more blood in his past, which was hard to believe considering how long he had known Sin.

“I can call for someone else-“

“No.”

Well, it was worth a try, Ja’far felt an iron grip around his wrist as he had turned away, drawn back against the prince, who took a seat on the chair with carved lion legs by the desk, pulling him along.

“Show me the caliber of what your pathetic country has to offer.”

I’m going to torture him, and then kill him, Ja’far rectified in his head, kneeling down before the prince, his hand brushing his already half hard cock through the fabric of his trousers as he unfastened the front. He lifted the bottom of his veil before leaning over and taking him into his mouth gingerly.

“Rather modest for a royal whore,” Kouen remarked casually, relishing the warm wetness of that mouth concealed behind a scrap of blue silk. “Or are you just very new to this?”

Ja’far was getting sick of find of similarities between the two royals, who apparently both enjoyed talking whilst receiving fellatio. Hopefully the same methods he used to shut Sin up would work here, as he worked slowly, but precisely, taking in him entirely to the base, listening to the prince’s breathing quicken while he continued, thankfully without further heckling. For a brief, shining moment he felt like he was in the clear, lapping the hot precum from the tip when t there was a knock at the door, accompanied by the voice of one of the other princes.

“Hey Kouen, you there? We’re supposed to all be present outside...”

Kouen gripped his hair through his hood, holding him down as he climaxed.

“Don’t spill any.”

Caught off guard, Ja’far choked down that vile bitterness, clawing the wooden legs of the chair below. Finally, Kouen released him, getting up while refastening his trousers to answer the door. “I want to see you here tomorrow,” he said shortly to Ja’far before stepping outside.

He didn’t even think about the registry. As soon as the footsteps faded, he left, trying his best not to just break and run, lest he drawn more attention to himself. But the urge was strong and so he walked as quickly as he dared, returning to the guest wing in a matter of minutes. 

“What happened to keeping him distracted?” he asked Sinbad, who was looking at him with a mix of curiosity and sheepish apology.

“So, he found you then.”

“He did.”

“But it worked out, since you still have your hands, I’m guessing.”

“I suppose it did,” Ja’far replied coolly, stepping back instinctively as Sinbad reached out to lift his veil.

“Did he kiss you?”

“...No... W-wait, Sinmphh-”

Sin yanked down that thin wisp of fabric, seizing those swollen lips for his own, even as they protested.

“Good.”

“But I had to-”

“Awful taste isn’t it. Did he say anything else?”

“He-ah... he wants,” Ja’far squirmed, as the king’s hands trailed along his stomach, slipping beneath the loose skirt around his waist. He hissed as Sinbad found his earlobe with his teeth, nipping him as he grabbed that rapidly stiffening cock.

“What does he want?”

“-wants me back there tomorrow night,” he let out in a rush, leaning heavily into Sin’s grip, moaning shamelessly into his shoulder as those cruel and clever fingers started stroking him teasingly

“And you’ll go.”

“W-what?!” He gasped, cheeks flaming at the order.

Sinbad grinned, “That’s right. You want a chance to amend your failure, right?” he asked, rubbing his thumb against the slit just to hear more of those desperate sounds of pleasure.

“Y-yes... of course... Sin,” Ja’far trembled, now embarrassed he had turned tail like that, when he had promised his king. It wasn’t even the most unsavory thing he had to do out of survival, it was just... marginally more uncomfortable because of the fact he couldn’t tell whether Kouen saw through his charade or not. There was a good chance he was just another entitled stuck up prince, but at the same time his eyes were too clear and calculating, just like his own King’s. It worried him.

“Excellent. Ah, look at the mess you made.” Sinbad remarked, using the hem of Ja’far’s shirt to wipe his hand off. “Make sure you find something else to wear tomorrow. But make sure it’s blue- it looks good on you.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next day he toured the city with Sin and their entourage, refusing flatly to be left behind simply because of what he had to do later that evening. It was important to get the details of the city- the standard of living, the morale of the people- these were all factors that would eventually come into play the day they would have to either ally or oppose themselves with the Kou Empire arrived. He took meticulous notes and directed his subordinates to investigate certain districts, organizing and accumulating data both on paper and mentally. It was a pity they couldn’t stay in the capital longer, but he’d do the best with what they had.

On the other hand, he wished Sin would take it a bit more seriously, instead of electing to stop every attractive woman they passed on the street to inform her of that fact. It was half a farce, half his own nature, but it still annoyed him, perhaps a little more than usual. And then when he vanished for a good hour, emerging only as their party regrouped to head back, carrying an ostentatiously wrapped package, presumably a trophy for back home.

To his surprise it turned out to be for him, but for his use that evening so it didn’t exactly register as a token of affection (although Sin claimed it was, given how long he took picking it out).

“Try it on.”

The Kou styled robe felt reminiscent of what he wore every day at work, back home, which did not comfort him in the slightest. But the fabric was much nicer, an elegant and muted azure with wide sleeves and an opulently embroidered wrap around the middle. But at the same time it was heavier, with more layers and extra pieces than he cared for. That night one of their company did his make up, erasing the sprinkle of freckles under cream and powder, setting his eyes in blue so deep it looked black to him. And then the minutes were up as stars came out and suddenly he was struck by a deep yearning for home. Their home, and their night sky.

Sinbad seemed to instinctively feel this, patting his shoulder as to not disturb the ornaments in his hair. “We’ll be out of here soon. And with something to show for it, thanks to you...But be careful. It’s not worth it if it gets out of control so...”

“Use my own discretion?”

“Yeah, that.”

They didn’t really have a choice about it, he thought as he made his way to the royal suites, willing his pulse to slow and his head to clear. He could try and make a run for it with the book- but that was laughably stupid. Maybe offer a concrete exchange- again, he shot that down since it partially defeated the point of reconnaissance if the other side knows exactly what you were after.

His musings brought him all the way to the door of the crown prince’s chambers, where the guards let him by without a word. He wasn’t stupid enough to try the doors of the study, and headed straight to where he presumed his sleeping quarters were. It seemed his instincts guided him true, as he found Kouen lounging with a book and a cup of wine. They even laze around similarly, he realized with a now familiar pang. But it didn’t matter how alike they were in habit, it’s not like he was Sinbad.

“I’ve returned, as you requested.”

“Good.” Kouen barely looked up at him before pointing over to the lacquered stand with a round ceramic basin. “Now go wash that stuff off your face.”

More than just a wasted effort, he’d be recognizable with the powder and the rouge gone, as the water and soap dissolved his allure, but at the same time made him more distinctive.

But Kouen made no sign of remembering him, either because he’d always been too far away at official functions or he simply didn’t care. He just got up from his chair and began removing the metallic hair ornaments that pinned and hid his silver hair, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. After that was done, he stood back to appraise him again, and Ja’far tried his damndest to keep from feeling like a fish out of water in the awkwardly weighty robe.

“You picked a good color, although that style is worn by women.”

“I thought it’d be more prudent to attract less attention.” Or rather, Sinbad thought so. But at third thought, no, he probably just picked whatever appealed to him aesthetically, as he always did.

“No one cares. Or if they do, they don’t matter- After all, what are the private affairs of the crown prince to them?”

The words rang with the authority of a king and he couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of what he could become, and what it would mean to their side. All the more reason to begin building intel, he supposed.

Kouen picked up the silver knife resting on the fruit platter beside him. “I’d apologize for being impatient, but judging by how uncomfortable you look in that, maybe I’m doing you a favor,” he said quietly, slicing through the stiff wrap around his middle with a swift movement. What a shame, it was really a lovely piece, Ja’far thought. The heavy brocade fell to the floor, and Kouen continued to cut the ties that held the rest together instead of bother with the delicate knots. Judging by how easily he navigated a woman’s formal wear, he was clearly not new to this.

Ja’far made no reaction, even as the metal edge kissed his bare skin. It was just a knife after all. Soon Kouen finished, as the last layer slipped off Ja’far’s shoulders, pooling on the ground.

“You’re not afraid of knives, are you?”

“No, your grace.”

“What about pain?”

“No.”

“Good.”

***

“You’re back.”

He nodded mutely, pulling the thin robe- the only part of his outfit that was still wearable by the time he left about his shoulders tightly.

“The registry?”

“It was gone.”

“So they figured us out.”

“I suppose.”

“But you stayed.”

“I didn’t have much choice, did I?”

“Let’s go.”

“Sin, I’m still-”

“I don’t care.”

The gaming mood had drained from his tone, and he sounded eerily like the prince he had just left in the way he ordered him. But his touch was gentle, even as he lifted him bodily and carried him from the sitting room to the bed, and Ja’far wondered if it was that obvious he could barely stand.

“What did he do to you?”

“What...do you mean,” he mumbled, shivering as the cool evening met his bare skin, but moreso at the stormy expression on his king’s face as he examined him in the lamplight. If looks could kill, we’d have royal blood on our hands, he thought in a daze, wishing his skin didn’t display the welts so obviously.

“Did he kiss you this time?”

 _He did, possessively, but without coarseness, but even as Ja’far had opened his mouth accommodatingly, it wasn’t enough. Although it didn’t quite draw blood, the bite was still enough to leave his lip swollen, but still he made no sound_.

“Yes.”

Sin’s lips were light against his own, in an uncommon sign of consideration, so he barely felt the sting. Ignoring the blossom of pain, he kissed him back, desperate to write over the still fresh memories. What he needed wasn’t tenderness- it was to forget.

“What’s that mark from?” Sinbad asked, rubbing his thumb along the darkening red line circling the base of his erection.

_“Just to keep you honest,” Kouen said blithely, knotting the cord with a tight smile. “No theatrics now.” For the first time that evening, he couldn’t hold back the hiss of pain as he grit his teeth, flat on his back with nowhere to run. Kouen seemed to enjoy this, relishing the quiet whimper of pain when he entered him, like the first fruits of the season._

“Nothing,” Ja’far replied, shifting to straddle Sinbad’s hips atop him, hastily disrobing him with almost frantic movements.

“Tell me-”

“Do you really want to know, Sin,” he gasped, using one hand to guide himself as he slid down on the other, himself still slick from the peculiar oil the Kou prince had readied him with. “He tied a rope around my cock-” He began to move, the pain burning away to a twisted pleasure.

“And wouldn’t let me come-” It was only moments until his long overdue release, but he didn’t stop, in need of more than just that.

“Unless I begged for it-” He felt Sin grasp his hips, steadying him as he moved against him finally, setting his nerves alight with each thrust.

“And did you?”

“What do you think?”

“Didn’t it hurt?”

 **It hurt. It hurt so much, he wanted to say, to shout and scream** , it hurt so much I wanted to- no, in the end, those were not words he was allowed to say, to burden his King with and shame his station. So he shook his head and moaned his name, over and over until it was all he knew, that and Sin inside of him, matching the rhythm of his heart.

***

It was the late afternoon when he woke, tucked neatly under the covers of the bed. Everyone must be busy getting ready to depart tomorrow, he realized, powering through the almost agonizing aches in his muscles while pulling himself out of bed. He had to be down there too, to oversee the packing and making sure everyone was accounted for.

He slipped on a clean robe to head back to his own room when he noticed the ruined garments from the night were bundled on the table under a sheaf of papers. Perhaps Kouen had a servant deliver them, as some sort of sick souvenir. As he began reading the letter left on top, his blood ran cold when he realized what he was holding.

It was a dossier of the dungeon capturers of Kou- the princes and princesses, with their djinn and affinities neatly listed. An elegant hand scripted a short message at the end:

_As per our agreement_

Sinbad, just returning from inspecting the ships, called out to him as he entered.

“Hey Ja’far, I don’t think you should be up yet-”

“You sold me.” Ja’far couldn’t tear his eyes from those words, feeling everything fall horribly into place in his mind. In a way, he didn’t have the right to be upset, did he? He admitted it as readily as his own name- he was a vessel of the King, to be used as such. But it was more the fact he didn’t tell him, that he let this farce continue for so long... “Is this what I’m worth to you?”

“What are you talking about, Ja’far?”

And the fact he continued to feign ignorance turned his stomach for the first time their lengthy, shared history of questionable actions.

“Nothing,” he spat, “But I’m glad you got what you paid for.” Leaving the letter behind he brushed past him, unsure of whether it was rage or shame or both that burned without abandon in his chest, leaving him hollow.


	3. Chapter 3

He ran with no goal in mind, no destination besides somewhere secluded and empty, but he didn’t even have any shoes on, for goodness sake. And the palace was labyrinthine in design, with walled courtyards and private suites kept away from ordinary guests. In a few short turns he was completely lost. Under normal circumstances, he could find his way back through a hundred turns, but with his concentration so thoroughly shattered it was no wonder he lost his bearing.

In a hideous breach of etiquette he went through the nearest unlocked door, finding himself in the midst of an indoor garden, with an elegant pavilion in the center. It must be one of the getaways for the princesses, judging by the selection of flowers- pink and yellows, in varieties that needed frequent attention, probably. But there were no gardeners in sight, or even the presence of any servants. A good as place as any, he though, to collect himself before he went back.

Went back to what, exactly? 

His country, of course. Not by birth, but by blood at least, given the amount spilled to create it. And his king, of course, the benevolent and powerful ruler of the seven seas.

Because that was all saw, the common people who loved him so. And his enemies who hated him more, saw power, opportunity, or a foe- but Ja’far, and those who remember him from the years gone by, knew him different. Before the king came a man, and before that man, a boy, who rose up to seize power and thought to take the world as well, doing everything with reckless abandon.

But he had to wonder, had he been just as blind as everyone else? Did the past wrap so tightly around his eyes he failed to notice the present, the King would who do anything, use anyone, and then bleed to death for his land? Impossible. He knew all those things already, swore to engrave them in his heart because not only did Sinbad spare him, ten years ago in a bloody fight, but he saved him, and that was a life debt.

So then why did he feel so bitter? He found the answer dwelling in the bottom of his thoughts, laying in wait to drag him down to the murky depths. The fact was he had imagined something that wasn’t there, a misbegotten and stillborn hope sired by an adolescence under that radiant personality, and the nights shared in between his other conquests. But Sin hadn’t sent any of them did he?

Because he trusts you, he tried to tell himself, but it brought no comfort, only the splintering question of whether he trusted him to succeed, or to blindly obey. It didn’t matter now, as there was no changing what had already happened. 

“Finally, I found you.”

Ja’far opened his eyes to a bloody sunset and Sinbad, coming up the steps of the pavilion, looking concerned which was wrong, he wasn’t supposed to be worried about him, because everything had worked out exactly how he planned so why was he holding him, and repeating over and over,

“It isn’t true, Ja’far. Believe me. Please.”

It would have been far easier if Sin had never sought him out, finding him so exactly with the power of the djinn that dwelled in them both. Then he could have gone back repaired,with a wall holding back what he knew he couldn’t afford to want, the very wall that Sin so selfishly broke down with his words.

“It... It’s okay, Sin. You don’t have to try and protect me by lying-” Because it wouldn’t work, having known him for so long- too long, perhaps, that he could tell by the pupils in his eyes and the beat of his heart, where the truth in his words lay.

Still he insisted. Grabbing Ja’far’s hand and putting it over his chest, he forced him to meet his gaze, eerily aglow with the dying light of the day.

“I didn’t know he’d send that. And...I didn’t know he’d go so far. He must have figured out what we were after from the night before. You know that, right?”

Then, he waited.

It was the truth. And Ja’far hated it, the relief that welled up, constricting his chest as he looked into that burning amber and realized it was not a liar’s heart beneath his fingertips. Meanwhile it felt like his own was breaking, slowly and excruciatingly beneath this weight, this love he couldn’t decide whether it would be better to smother it before it destroyed him. That was the only way he knew how to live: kill or be killed. Old habits die hard after all. But Sin insisted he could be saved, even as he wielded the knife at the same time. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, once his own pulse slowed and the sun had long set, simply resting against the other, always so warm no matter how little he wore. “I must have jumped to conclusions...”

“Seriously, I thought you were going to do something really drastic when you left.”

“I’m not you, Sin.”

“Thank goodness for that, right?”

The wood of the pavilion flooring was warm on his shoulders as Sin laid him down gently, although it was nowhere near the welcoming heat of the sands of Sindria, kissed by the sun with nothing held back. He bit back his obligatory worries- _what if someone shows up, exactly how bad would that be for us, good thing we’re leaving tomorrow_ \- and let himself be caught between his sun and the earth, until he no longer tell whether he was flying or falling, into the endless sky or the ground below.


	4. Six Months Earlier

It was the grandest festival held in the short history of the newborn nation on a jewel like island in the sea. Honestly, it was out of their budget, but what else did you do but pull out all the stops when ‘emissaries’ from the largest growing Empire in the east announced they would be paying them a visit? Because of this, Ja’far was already stretched thin, barely able to focus on the entertainment since something or someone somewhere always needed his attention it seemed.

But it was truly his element, in a way, one that he’d never expected would suit him so well. He’d been hesitant to accept, when Sinbad had named him in his court, wondering why he gave a former assassin the job of running administrative affairs. However, Sin’s ability to assess people and their usefulness was uncanny and profound, and even though Ja’far hadn’t slept in twenty four hours, he found himself strangely elated by how much he could do without even drawing his weapon (except the one fight that broke out in the kitchens).

He slipped into the great hall of the palace to report to Sin briefly, bowing politely to their guests- two princes from the Kou Empire, looking well cared for to his relief. It wouldn’t do to have them go back and speak of poor hospitality. Sin was also doing well, meaning he still had all his clothes on as of that moment.

“Stay with us for a bit, Ja’far, meet our my esteemed visitors,” Sinbad said, brushing a lock of silver hair out of his eyes. He must have been exhausted, but regardless he was aglow with excitement, flushed with pride at his new post. Sinbad could see it in his eyes, and his smile, even if he’d grumble later about how they really couldn’t afford to have ice sculptures of the King. At least, not twenty of them.

Ja’far declined with his apologies- there really was too much work to be done, he said, before wishing the princes a good evening and hurrying away, a silver haired figure soon lost in the crowd.

“Thank you again for hosting us on short notice, Sinbad,” the crown prince- Kouen was his name, already eye to eye with the king in height, if not relative commanding power. “You and your court must come to the capital next season.”

“It would be our honor,” he replied, catching the implied imperative without missing a beat. Nor did he overlook the way Kouen’s gaze fell on Ja’far when he had come up with his report- hungry and almost predatory, even if he composed his features a moment later to mild interest. It was the most direct desire to conquer and own, and he was fairly sure he was the only one to catch it- after all it really took one to know one.

“In the meantime Kouen, won’t you tell me about the dungeons you and your siblings have been visiting as of late...I’m quite curious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me on this... journey, so to speak. Feel free to shout (at me or otherwise) about the ending, it... is probably too vague even still, but that's deliberate. Mostly.


End file.
